In The Next Room
by xTimexTurnerx
Summary: CS AU! Emma puts out an ad for a roommate, never expecting the best choice to be her ex, Killian Jones. While seemingly perfect on paper, living with your past love is never simple. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

By the sixth interview, Emma was starting to lose hope. This whole thing had been stupid; her parents had urged her to go through some official listing or realtor, while Emma had insisted she would be able to find a sane roommate off Craig's List.

It was all quite safe. She was meeting the potential roommates in a crowded coffee shop she frequented daily. She was a friend to the beefy barista, Happy, who owned the shop.. They had worked out a single for him to attack if necessary.

The contenders so far all had something disastrously wrong with them. The first one mysteriously didn't provide any references, and was dodgy when Emma requested them. The second was a squirrely looking male, age unidentifiable. He asked what color bra Emma was wearing, and one threatening gesture from Happy made him leave with his tail between his legs. The third was only seventeen, running away from home. The fourth wore all black and answered every question with a question. The fifth picked her teeth with the bistro's fork—yuck. God, she hoped the sixth would show at least some promise.

For the next meeting the person had only given her his or her surname, Jones. Of course, the name made her start, but Jones was such a common last name. There was no way it was actually him. He was safe in New York City, enjoying his fast paced life with no one to hold him back.

Emma grunted to herself and took a long pull from her hot coco with cinnamon. January was brutal in Boston, but at least Happy's hot chocolate made it slightly better. Happy was such an odd name for Emma's brutal friend, but she never pushed to find out his original label.

"Hello, I believe we were supposed to meet at three." He must have recognized her by her online description: blonde curls, green hat and sweater.

God damnit, Emma would know that voice anywhere—its annoyingly incredible British accent and deep vibrato. She dragged her eyes up from the table to meet the vivid blue eyes she expected, yet somehow managed diminish in her memories of the past two years.

"Ah," Killian Jones said, itching his fingers behind his ear. "You are the apartment girl."

"And you are my three o'clock," Emma breathed. She took another sip of her drink, trying to compose her features. Other than the incredible shock of Jones actually being Killian Jones, she had never been completely immune to his charms, even after all this time.

"Should I sit down?" Killian asked, awkwardly hovering over the vintage red cushioned chair.

"I don't see why not," Emma said, smiling. He forgot how bright her smile was.

"Excellent."

"So, you're moving to Boston," Emma said. She stirred her drink slowly, looking for any clues in his face.

"Yes, my father's company is opening a new restaurant along the shore and he wants me to be here for the start up and run it."

Emma genuinely felt happy for him; this was something Killian wanted for the entire time they had been together—a way to prove himself, and something to call his own. "That's great," she said.

"Thank you, I'm pretty excited about it. And your apartment is ideally located, low rent, good kitchen, it seems pretty great."

"Which is why you answered the ad. The ad a female put out," Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Hey, lasses tend to be a bit neater than blokes. You can't blame me for seeking a more feminine touch. However, had I known it was you…" He trailed off, traces of a smile pinching at the corner of her lips.

"You wouldn't have come." Emma finished. She let the words hang in the air.

"I respect the choice you made. So yes, I wouldn't have come." Killian succeeded.

_Ouch_, Emma thought. That stung. But he wasn't wrong—she broke it off with him. She had made a choice.

"And yet, here we are," she said.

"Yes here we are."

A silence was filled only with Emma's mindless stirring.

"Still interested in the apartment?" That looked like the one question Killian wasn't expecting. His eyebrow arched, a habit she recognized that hadn't changed.

"Look, what happened with us is so far in the past. Over two years now? We were kids when we started it, we had no idea what we wanted yet. And now we do, and we're mature adults—"

"Speak for yourself, love." Killian licked his tongue across his lips.

Emma rolled her eyes, and held back a grin. "I'm at least a mature adult, and I don't see the problem here. You know me; I'm mostly neat, I can keep to myself and I make myself crazy busy. I'm barely home, I'm a pretty easy roommate." Emma wondered why she was suddenly trying so hard to sell him on the idea.

"Well, when you put it like that, Swan. How could I say no?" She winced a bit at the mention of her last name. No one else ever referred to her by it.

"Serious?" Emma said.

"Well, you argue very effectively. Something I see hasn't changed."

"Not at all," Emma agreed, smiling. This was nice. It reminded her faintly of those first few months she had spent with him, when she was nineteen and eager for someone to fix her.

"I'm in," he said. They signed a bit of paper work and it wasn't until Killian walked out of the shop that Emma had fully understood the implications of what just happened.

She was about to be roommates with her ex-boyfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello all! Thank you to all of those who have already reviewed! This story is shaping up to be quite long so I hope you're as excited as I am. Updates will be pretty frequent, I have break coming up. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT, and "In the Next Room" is a song by Neon Trees, which actually inspired this story. **

**One Month Later: Move-In Day**.

Emma had woken up early. She tried to convince herself it was because she wanted to beat the traffic into the city, but that was a lie. She had barely slept thinking about her ridiculous life.

Her and Killian had exchanged basic text messages over the last month, you know, sexy stuff like: _Do you have a coffee maker? _Or _I'll bring the salad tongs. _Really, it was blooming with raw passion. Emma honestly believed what she had told Killian when she convinced him to move in with her: they were a fragment of a memory. Nothing now could change that, nor did she want anything to change it.

Her mother was confused about the whole arrangement. "So you two are…"

"Roommates," Emma answered firmly the previous day as she packed up the final boxes in her room. Being twenty four and living with her parents had quickly become inconvenient and awkward.

"But, you two used to…"

"Date. Right. Years ago." Emma kept her eyes down and aggressively folded her baby blanket, squishing it deep in a box without any particular regard.

"Emma." Snow grabbed her daughter's hands to still them. "I just want to make sure this isn't going to end badly."

"It's going to be great. Being friends was never a problem with us," Emma said, unable to completely keep the bitterness out of her voice. She needed to put that in check, quickly.

Snow sighed at her jaded and guarded daughter before patting her on the back. "I trust you."

Right, Snow trusted her. Did she trust herself? That was one of the many thoughts keeping Emma awake the night before her move-in. By 6:30am her yellow bug was loaded and she kissed her groggy parents goodbye.

In a few short hours she was parked in front of the tall brick building, smiling despite her anxieties. She took her bedding in first, relishing the freedom of her key opening to an empty room. Her black riding boots echoed on the wood floors and she dropped her black and white comforter on her new bed.

"Yes!" She said loudly, letting loose a rare laugh. Not only was it her first taste of real freedom, it was the first time she had her own home. She was no longer dependent on anyone to provide for her: not foster parents, nor her biological parents Emma had discovered on her 18th birthday, or even a guy. Emma was paying rent, Emma's name on the lease. It was all hers.

The morning hours passed in an afterglow. Even mundane tasks such as scrubbing the kitchen counters, organizing her closet, and pinning up the few pictures she cared to keep, were done with a new excitement. Her life in Boston was going to be different.

"Hello! See you've made it, Swan." Except for the fact that her ex boyfriend was living with her. That was not new... But this version of them was— just friends, and moved on.

"That I did," Emma conceded. She moved out of her room and leaned against the doorframe. The layout of the apartment was open, the door leading into a living room and kitchen. Killian and Emma's rooms were off the main room, with a master bath in between them.

The February air left Killian's nose red and hair windswept in an unfair fashion-model type of way.

"Need help?" Emma asked.

Killian raised his eyebrows. "Aren't I the one who should help you with your bags, lass?" Emma was about to point out she had two hands, while he only had one, but bit back the joke that used to flow so easily off her tongue; they weren't on that level anymore.

Emma rolled her eyes. "For god's sake, Killian. It's the 21st century." Without another word she shoved on her Uggs and went down the three flights of stairs to his car. It was a newer model, much nicer than the clunker he had when they dated. Emma grabbed boxes at random, ignoring the heavy television, not as strong as she boasted to be a minute ago.

Within a few trips, the entirety of his car had been piled in his room, sans the television, which was resting on the cheap entertainment system Emma had picked up.

"You unpack and I'll set up the TV?" Emma suggested.

Killian laughed. "Since when are you any part electronically inclined?"

"Since I didn't have anyone to do it for me," Emma said truthfully, not realizing the words before they flew out of her mouth.

She spun on her heel, effectively leaving Killian's room before she managed to make anything else more awkward.

Truth be told, the time Emma had spent single the last two years was incredible. She had grown a lot, and developed skills, like wiring her own television, that she was proud of; she was more independent than ever before.

As she lay down on the ground with a screwdriver, she hummed a light tune for herself.

"Wow, you actually do know how to set it up," Killian remarked, coming into the living room to admire Emma's handiwork once she pushed the wooden entertainment center back into place.

"Now all we need is, you know, cable."

"Ah yes. I've just set up mine to be continued at this address, is that all right?" He cocked his head to the right, looking like a puppy begging for a treat at the table.

"Of course, one less call to make," Emma smiled. Maybe this would be good. Maybe this could work.

He insisted on making dinner that night. "I've worked in restaurants for ten years," he reminded her.

"My cooking has gotten better!" Emma scoffed, not liking his implication.

"I'm sure it has." Killian's tone was absentminded as he searched their kitchen for some implement.

"I'm cooking tomorrow," Emma shot back. Killian paused, his back to her.

"I won't be here tomorrow night, but I will take a rain check." When he finished, he turned around, classic smirk on his face.

"Ah, big plans?" Emma taunted, pulling open a drawer to find the wine opener.

"Well, I'm going out with a girl I've been seeing."

She should have known. What had she expected him to do—pine? Of course he was seeing someone. The whole point of her breaking up with him was so that he could find someone better. But damnit if him saying it out loud didn't hurt. Hurt might have been too strong, but it pinched uncomfortably on the lid of her emotions.

However, she had been hiding her emotions for twenty four years. She wasn't about to stop now. "Naturally, who's the lucky girl?" Emma carefully uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. She only met his critical gaze when she slipped the stem into his hand.

"Her name's Annabelle. It was casual; I mostly just met up with her when I was in Boston for business, but now I'm living here and it's become more of a thing." Killian squirmed and took a sip of the red wine.

Emma laughed and Killian looked surprised. "You're not on trial! I expected you to find someone." He looked relieved and returned to chopping and stirring.

"So you…"

"No." Emma said quietly, watching his hand delicately handle different herbs and vegetables—he had more finesse in the kitchen than experienced chefs with two hands. "I've focused on myself." Emma smiled as Killian stopped moving, just for a moment. "Boston is my fresh start." Emma added, not knowing why she felt compelled to keep talking.

"To fresh starts then," Killian said, holding up his wine glass.

"Here, here." Emma smiled, clinking with him and swallowing her portion whole.

He was right to demand the right to cook the first apartment dinner; it was incredible.

Pasta in some sort of creamy sauce with perfectly cooked shrimp. The salad was crisp, and he even made a side soup and desert. "God, I forgot how good you are at this," Emma said, taking a large bite of her frozen lemon meringue.

Killian laughed, "it is one of my better selling points."

"Or your only selling point," Emma teased back. Killian clutched his chest, and the small jingle of his long necklaces under his black shirt could be faintly heard.

"You wound me, lass."

"I'm going to have to meet this Annabelle that apparently likes you for things other than your cooking," Emma challenged lightly. Killian's smirk flattered, if only slightly.

"Excellent idea, she'll be able to persuade you better than I. I was thinking, should we have some sort of festivity to celebrate our new…" He paused, taking a sip of wine, "home?"

"I think that is a fine idea, Mr. Jones," Emma countered. "A housewarming party. I'll invite my crowd, you invite yours and it'll be a fun, alcohol filled melting pot." She agreed quickly to show how willing she was to meet this girl. Getting off on the right foot could set this arrangement up to be easy.

Killian chuckled, "sounds like an excellent night of sin and depravity."

"Only if we do it right," Emma winked. Conversation flowed so easily between them, like no time had passed at all. She insisted on cleaning up, since he had cooked. As she washed the dishes methodically, the warm wine contributed to her peaceful mood. This could work.

A/N: A nice chapter to get things started! Angst and drama ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for all those who have followed, favorite-d and reviewed! I'm really enjoying writing this, and it's good to know a few people enjoy reading it! Next chapter should come by the end of the week! **

Over the next week, Killian and Emma settled into an easy routine. In the mornings, Killian brewed strong coffee in his French press, and Emma put two English muffins in the toaster oven. They each grabbed their favorite marmalades—strawberry for him, orange for her—and separated the pieces of the paper to read. Emma grabbed the comics, arts and national headlines while Killian concerned himself with international news, finance and business. It was simple as breathing.

Then they would each head off to their respective jobs: Killian went to oversee construction at _Wrecked_, the new high end restaurant his father's company was letting him manage, and Emma left for her police academy training. In only six months Emma would be able to apply for jobs within the Boston Police Department and Killian's restaurant would be open.

They came home at varying times, usually exchanging pleasantries before going to bed. Emma managed to not drop any embarrassing lines that somehow linked to their past, and Killian was the ever charming and tight-lipped man he always had been.

But underneath the coffee cups and "goodnights," and underneath the rewritten history, deep tensions were waiting to surface that both parties were too afraid to acknowledge.

Friday, the night before their apartment-warming party, Emma settled into the couch on a rare early night. The recruits had completed a preliminary PT test, and the women had been timed first. She was pleased to say she had proved to be the strongest and fastest in the bunch—although there were only a few women in the program. She was exhausted and sore and looking forward to sinking into the plush cushions and watching mind-numbing television.

She flicked on the flat screen and suddenly was curious. What shows did Killian record? She grinned to herself, remembering the crazy science fiction stuff he watched back when they were together. They would fight endlessly, tackling one another and tickling trying to win the power of the remote, only to end up kissing and then…

Nope. Those were thoughts Emma could not entertain. Her cheeks blushed profusely as she clicked through the list of recorded programs, but quickly forgot her shame as her mouth dropped open. She immediately reached for her cell phone, fingers punching in Killian's contact info when the doorknob turned and in he walked himself.

"Oh my GOD, you have some explaining to do!" She called, standing up to push his arm.

"What on earth do you mean, lass?"

Emma couldn't muster any words but wildly gestured to the list of recorded _Bachelor_ episodes on their television. Killian's smile faded.

"You tell no one."

"You watch _THE BACHELOR_?!" Emma yelled. Killian threw his hand over her lips.

"Can you shut your bloody mouth?" He glanced around the apartment, as if expecting a microphone to be taping his words or a small crowd gathered waiting to mock him.

Emma started laughing deeply, hinged at the waist, clutching her side.

"You watch _The Bachelor_," she choked out between wheezes.

"Oi! That's enough! It all started because you used to force me to watch bloody _American Idol_ and pass out, because you go to bed before the sun sets, and the show—"

"_The Bachelor_," Emma cut him off to clarify. Killian glared at her. "Please continue with how I ruined your life," she waived.

"Right, so _The Bachelor_ came on right after and I didn't want to move you until you were sound asleep, so I would sit and watch the stupid show. And I don't know, it's so ridiculous… but so humorous at the same time."

Emma sucked her lips into her cheeks trying to contain her laughter. "Mmmhm," she murmured, not trusting herself to speak. And there was a moment, when her eyes were dancing and he was standing there, the banter taking them back years, that it almost seemed like no time had passed at all. They moved just a fraction closer together and paused, locking eyes.

Killian cleared his throat and broke the feeling. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"

"I don't think so," Emma said.

He slipped off his shoes and hung his jacket on the hook next to the door. He paused in front of Emma before grabbing the remote and clicking _OK_. The cheesy narration and music started filling the room.

"I missed this week's episode." He said shrugging.

Emma raised her eyebrows at him and went to the kitchen. "If we're watching _The Bachelor_, I need a beer."

"I don't remember inviting you," he joked. "Many thanks," he added when she handed him a cold beer as well. He twisted off the cap and smiled before settling in.

As much as Emma hated to admit it, he was right; she fell asleep early. Not a half hour into the episode, she had tilted sideways, her head gently resting on Killian's shoulder. He laughed to himself and couldn't curb the impulse to run his fingers gently through the silky ends of her long blonde hair.

It had been the first thing he noticed about her when they met. The sun had been shining and it hit her head just in the right way to make her glow. She looked like some sort of goddess and he wanted to worship her.

Killian shook his head, thoughts like those hadn't plagued him for well over a year and now wasn't the time for them to resurface. But if he remembered correctly, Emma slept like the dead. He rolled his eyes and sighed to the silent room before making up his mind. He gently hooked his good arm under her knees and his left hand around her back.

At the feeling of being lifted, Emma's brows furrowed, but she quickly curled into Killian's chest, her hand resting above his heart. He placed her down on her geometric bedspread and pulled the ruffled black blanket over her limp form. Killian paused for a moment, smiling at her. She was beautiful in the soft moonlight tracing her curled body.

Killian hadn't seen the inside of her room yet and took a second to look around. The decorations were simple, Emma not being one for nostalgia or many emotions. He grinned at the small cluster of pictures tacked onto a plain corkboard above her dresser. Smiling back at him were her biological parents—Mary (or Snow, her lifelong nickname) and David. There were a few pictures of her and her friend Ruby, a girl who was also in the system, doing various things. And then there was one of himself, which was so surprising it took his breath away.

It was a candid. One of her parent's friends must have taken it when the couple wasn't looking. It was the first Christmas they spent together, huddled in front of her parent's tree. Killian's good hand faced the camera and was loose on Emma's hip. She was stunning in an emerald green dress, and her head was bowed down, laughing at something he must have said. The little wrinkles around his eyes portrayed how incandescently happy he was. He wondered why she kept it through the years.

Emma shifted in her bed and Killian jumped, immediately exiting the room to leave, wishing to remain uncaught. Even as he washed his face and prepared for bed himself, he couldn't get the snapshot out of his head. _Get a grip, Jones_, he thought. He jammed headphones into his ears and played some soothing alternative music to drown out his thoughts. His sleep was restless.

The next day Emma and Killian moved around each other like a synchronized dance. Emma twirled a Swiffer and dust cloth, while Killian tangoed with the stove creating appetizers for the party; Killian had yet to let Emma cook dinner, something that she was starting to distain.

After a few hours of preparation, the apartment looked great and smelled delicious. "Can you handle the rest, Killian? I want to start getting ready," Emma asked as she dried off another pot.

"Got it, it'll take you longer. Go ahead."

"Thank you, I am going to take you on that offer and not even argue that I am more naturally beautiful and therefore it _wouldn't _take me longer." Emma grinned and Killian chuckled.

After the bathroom door shut, Killian commented under his breath: "Whatever you say, love."

The time was well spent, as Emma emerged in a tight blue dress, which contrasted her pale skin and light hair marvelously. She pulled on black heels and curled her long locks, making her look like some sort of sea goddess in a mess of gold and ocean blue.

Killian's heart stopped beating for a minute. "Well done," he nodded passively.

"Oh really?" Emma grinned, a glint of challenge in her eyes. "You're not so bad yourself."

Killian nodded in appreciation. This was as far as either of them dared to compliment the other. They were saved from any further pleasantries by the doorbell.

Emma buzzed up the guests and the door opened to reveal Snow and David. "Emma!" Snow called, throwing her arms around the younger woman.

"You saw me a week ago," Emma countered, ever uncomfortable with her mother's unabashed expression of emotion.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Nolan," Killian said smiling. Snow pulled away to hug Killian as well. David was standing off to the side, looking mildly uncomfortable.

"It's been so long!" Emma could hear Snow's greeting muffled into Killian's shoulder.

Once free, he nodded to David and David nodded back. Men.

The bell rang again and this time some of Killian's friends Emma didn't recognize piled in, and within ten minutes the apartment was full. Emma was busy pouring drinks for everyone and didn't notice when the alleged Annabelle appeared at Killian's side. It wasn't until Killian pulled Emma's arm to drag her over that she saw her.

She was blonde, her hair in perfect ringlets framing her heart shaped face. She was petite, perfectly tan and had a cutesy nose. Her dress was a Kelly green, and she wore gold heels that still didn't quite bring her up to the average height.

"You must be Annabelle!" Emma said through her teeth, sticking out her hand for the girl to shake.

"And you must be Emily," she said back. And damnit she had an accent. The girl was Australian and Emma was starting to quickly feel inferior.

"Emma," Killian corrected.

"Of course, so sorry." Annabelle didn't look sorry. "It's so crazy how you guys found each other! Craig's list! That's so funny."

Emma opened her mouth to correct her, to say, _oh no. Killian and I dated for three years. We go way back._ But she caught Killian's eye. His jaw clenched, and he tilted his head asking her to keep her mouth shut.

"Yeah… Crazy," Emma fake laughed. "If you'll excuse me, I just saw one of my friends walk in." Emma left. Why hadn't Killian told the girl himself? And god, how OLD was she? She looked like she just graduated high school, or maybe it was just her tiny stature.

Ruby, Emma's old friend and former roommate, saw Emma's distress and tugged her elbow over into a corner of the room. "What's going on?"

"He didn't tell her!" Emma whispered furiously, crossing her arms and cocking her hip.

"Okay, more details. Who didn't tell what to who?"

"Killian! That stupid idiot didn't tell his girlfriend that we used to date. She thinks we met for the first time a month ago."

"That's awkward," Ruby conceded.

"Yes! It is, and he didn't want to tell her either. He could have given me some warning you know! Like, _oh by the way, when you meet my pixie girlfriend, don't mention those three years of my life I mistakenly spent with you_."

Ruby's eyes softened. "Emma, he doesn't think you were a mistake."

"Not the time, you get the picture." Emma brushed aside the thoughts about their relationship, their break up… how brutal it was feeling like everything was exploding but you couldn't feel pain because you were the one who dropped the bomb in the first place.

"That is ridiculous, I'm sorry. Also, side note: how old is she?"

"RIGHT?" Emma said, much louder than she intended to. A few of the party patrons looked over to where the pair was standing. Ruby and Emma stood for a moment, shaking their heads. "I need a drink," Emma finally sighed.

"Agreed," Ruby grinned wolfishly.

Emma met Ruby at 14 in a foster home. They quickly became inseparable; two strangely independent and weird girls finding someone they could rely on. They managed to land in three homes together in their last four years in the system, and then moved in together at 18; Ruby got her bartender's license and Emma waited tables. Ruby helped her find her parents, encouraged her to trust Killian, and was there with the Rocky Road ice cream when her and Killian broke up. She had seen it all.

It was Ruby's personal opinion that Emma still, deep down, beneath the armor, harbored feelings toward Killian. And also, that Killian, not so deep down, wasn't over Emma. Didn't his silence on the matter to his current girlfriend prove that? He didn't want to realize the fact he wasn't with Emma.

Ruby watched him interact with the girl out of his eye, and noticed while he looked happy, it didn't quite overcome him like it did with Emma. Speaking of Emma, by the time Ruby turned back around, she had taken two shots. "Woah, woah. Steady there, lightweight." Emma rolled her eyes.

"I'm not looking to hold your hair tonight, all right?" Emma laughed.

"Emma we're going to go home, you know it's past our bedtime," Snow said, coming up to the two women.

"Thank you for coming," Emma said, giving each one a light hug, still distracted by her thoughts. She started to feel the buzz of the alcohol and the warm, tingling sensation was welcome.

"Emma, can I borrow you for a moment?" Killian's hot breath tickled her neck, and because of her languid motions she laughed out loud.

"That tickles," she said.

"Oy, cummon." Killian did not sound amused. He pulled her arm until they were in his bedroom. He shut the door, cutting off the party noise.

"I just want to stay thank you, for not saying anything to Annabelle," Killian said. His fingers were lying against one another in front of him as if he was about to pray.

"How old is she?" Emma asked. Killian looked taken aback.

"Does it matter?"

"I mean, if you had to pick her up from high school today, yeah."

Killian rolled her eyes, "She's twenty one, Swan."

"Wow, could have fooled me." Emma spat back, not realizing when this conversation turned tense.

"I just wanted to say thank you, and would appreciate if you could keep quiet about it. For now."

"Why? Why aren't you telling her?" Emma asked.

Killian shut his eyes for a minute. "I'm enjoying my time with her, but she's a bit of the jealous type. I don't want to make her needlessly worry about this situation. She asks about it enough now, and she doesn't even know we have a past."

Emma smirked. She liked that she made this girl uncomfortable. "I mean, I won't say anything. But you should, soon. If you want to keep her as your girlfriend, honesty is better. The longer you wait the worse it'll be." Emma turned to walk out the door.

"She's not my girlfriend."

Emma paused, hand on the doorknob. "What?"

"Annabelle, she's not my girlfriend."

Emma spun back to face him and raised her eyebrows. "Does she know that?"

"Yes, it's casual. We're just spending time together. I don't do the boyfriend thing." He was staring at the floor.

"Since when?" The words escaped Emma's mouth before she wondered if she really wanted the answer to her question.

Killian didn't talk, but just looked into her eyes. He opened his mouth to answer, but Emma cut him off. "Don't." she pleaded. Did she do that? Did she take the man that wanted to explore the world together, the man that wanted a family and turn him into a jaded, guarded guy just like all the rest of them? She couldn't let him answer because that would be enough to make whatever past they could currently choose to ignore all too real, all too present.

Emma left the room, pushing past the few people leaning against the frame. She navigated her way back to Ruby, who was putting the final touches on a cocktail. Emma pulled the red thing out of Ruby's hands and sipped it until the ice clinked.

"So it's going to be one of those nights," Ruby said knowingly. Emma nodded and Ruby fixed another beverage.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry this took way longer than anticipated. I kinda forgot I needed to actually study for finals. But now I'm all done! Wooo! Winter break and tons of time to write, especially with my mid-season finale feels. Cheers!

"So, I think we need to redeem ourselves after last weekend," Ruby said over the phone the following Thursday.

Emma groaned. "We? You were not the one who woke up and vomited for half a day."

"Small matter," Ruby brushed off.

"And then, had a massive hangover for the rest of the day. I had to hide in my room."

"Yes, that's what I'm saying! I need to prove to you a night of debauchery can end well."

"Or, I could never drink again." Emma clicked her bedroom door closed, hearing Killian's footsteps leave his room and enter the main living room.

"Emma!" Ruby demanded her attention.

"Sorry," Emma mumbled. She turned her back from the door, as if the movement would keep her focused on her phone conversation.

"Something tall and British walk by?" Ruby asked.

Emma was silent. "Exactly, _this_ is why we are going out tomorrow night, and you are having limited choice in the matter. We need to get your mind off him."

"I got over him years ago, Ruby. He is not bothering me. But the vivid images of throwing up last Sunday are."

Ruby paused. She could argue with Emma now, when she was sober and stubborn. Or she could try and talk about the Killian issue again later when Emma was less on her guard. That seemed much more preferable.

"We'll talk about it again tomorrow," Ruby said. Emma sighed, "okay. That's fine." They said their goodbyes and hung up. Emma pulled on her slippers to make a short journey to a kitchen, hoping Killian had left by now.

Her and Killian had lived in a tense, polite pattern of avoidance with each other the last few days. There was no carefree laughing, no shared beers, and definitely no _Bachelor_ viewing. Their simple morning routines had become stiff, and although they sat together at a table just as before, the conversation and pleasantries had come to a grinding halt.

It's not like Emma was doing it on purpose; she was following his lead. The day after their party, when Emma spent the morning buried with her head in a toilet bowl, he didn't check on her once. Killian let Ruby hold back Emma's hair, fetch her water, and pop two Asprin on her bedside table when she fell back asleep. Not that it was his _job_ to check on her, but she expected perhaps at least one phrase of concern. Nothing. Thinking back, she didn't even see him that day.

"What are you up to this weekend?" Killian's voice made Emma jump. It was the longest sentence he had uttered toward her in days.

Emma cleared her throat. "Not sure yet. You?" He was wearing loose fitting flannel pants and a raggedy black v-neck. Emma wanted to smile because this was how she remembered Killian: in pajamas and messy hair—not the suit wearing, groomed, pocket square matching robot he had become. But she didn't smile. Because this wasn't then, this was now and Killian was in his sleep clothes.

Killian took a sip of his tea. "I'm taking Annabelle out to one of the high end restaurants downtown—you know, staking out the competition and what not." He winked and Emma felt angry. _Pretend nothing is wrong. Nothing has happened. It's fine._

"I just wanted to let you know that I won't be back until Sunday, I'll be at her place." Did that hurt? Emma couldn't tell; she was too busy focusing on controlling her facial features to feel.

"That sounds—" Emma forced a smile—"great. Really great. Actually, Ruby's been trying to get me out again all week. A comeback, after last weekend. We're heading to that theme club, _The Rabbit Hole_."

Killian arched his eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I've heard it's pretty strange."

Emma finished stirring her hot tea and looked at Killian under her lashes. "I'm pretty strange." Emma nodded before turning and retreating into her room.

"That's quite true, Emma Swan." Killian said under his breath before walking back to his own room.

_**iMESSAGE**_

_**Emma: I'm in. **_

_**Ruby: I'll pick out outfits. **_

Emma shut her phone off before she could change her mind.

And god, how Emma wished she had changed her mind. She was standing in front of Ruby's dirty full-length mirror, staring at the metallic gold skirt and black crop top she was wearing.

Emma pulled down the edge of her shirt, just to become unhappy with the skirt's hem. Ruby grabbed her friend's hands. "Emma, you look incredible."

Emma growled. "Easy for you to say." Ruby looked beautiful in anything. Her slim waist, curvy bust and long legs were every guy's dream. Emma felt boxy or man-ish next to her.

"Shut up," Ruby commanded, she didn't turn away from her make up ritual.

"Killian said this place was strange, what did he mean?"

"Mention his name again, and I take your phone."

Emma scoffed. "What did he mean?"

"It's just themed. They have some live white rabbits hopping in cages, some freaky _Alice in Wonderland_ people dressed up. It's all black, white and crazy patterns. It's just very into character."

"Great," Emma mumbled. "Sounds like my type of place."

"It's not, which is precisely why we're going." Ruby smacked her lips together, and pushed a cup into Emma's hand. "Now drink up, or the whole thing is going to seem much worse than it is."

They caught a cab about a half hour after that first drink, and Emma had consumed two more since its conclusion. Her face was already flushing red and she could feel the tingle running throughout her body. She kept having flashes of the stupid fairy girl and Killian laughing over candlelight… sharing glasses of red wine in Annabelle's imagined apartment… Annabelle's legs wrapped around Killian's waist as he pushes her against the door…

"How much longer?" Emma demanded.

"No need to shout," Ruby laughed.

The cab pulled over a few seconds after and Ruby handed him some bills. They stepped to the outside of a bright purple door in crushed velvet.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Emma said. Ruby shushed her. The bouncer, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, let them inside with a simple nod, not asking to see either of their IDs.

Inside, the room was crowded. Emma instantly felt at ease in her flashy outfit, finding it was not even close to the most revealing or the most obnoxious. Women were clad in bras and tutus with fishnets, or skimpy Alice costumes. Some men had crazy ties and orange suits, or other random clothing combinations.

"I figured it would be easy to feel comfortable in a place you were the most normal," Ruby explained over the music that vaguely sounded like someone testing 100 different smoke detectors at once.

Emma smiled at her friend, who always had her best intentions at heart. "You're right." And she was. She felt at ease, despite the ridiculous environment. Who did she have to worry about making a fool of herself in front of? No one! And it was liberating.

During the week, she was so disciplined and focused, determined to prove herself among a male-dominated field. People were constantly watching her: peers, commanding officers, and even Killian.

Emma didn't comment on the themed cocktails (Jack Rabbit and Coke, Queen of Hearts Dirty Shirley, etc.). Ruby ordered them some brightly colored beverage and they toasted to being young, to being single and to everything in their lives. The empty glasses started clustering by their place at the bar.

"It's time to dance!" Ruby declared, pumping her fist in the air. "I'm going to find us partners." She left before Emma could protest.

Emma was alone at the bar, and took a deep breath trying to make her fuzzy head more clear. She was drunk, that was for sure, and even though the whole point was to forget about Killian and forget about their history or whatever, she couldn't _stop _thinking about it. Every time she told herself to stop, that just triggered another round of painful memories.

Really, this was his damn fault. His whole stunt with his preschool girlfriend/ not girlfriend who was foreign and curvy and his inability to commit because of _her_ and those stupid blue eyes—

Before Emma fully realized what she was doing, she found his contact and clicked the picture of the phone. She jammed the device to her ear.

He picked up on the second ring. "Emma? Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, actually, it is." Emma's words came out slurred.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay?" The small note of panic made Emma sickly happy.

"Yeah, I'm hurt. And it's your fault." Emma slapped the bar, which she knew he couldn't see, but it made her feel vindicated all the same.

Killian was silent. "Hold on," he said. She could hear him moving and all the background noise around him suddenly cut out. "What is going on?"

"You! You do that eye thing last weekend and then you ignore me like I've got… Ebola or something! News flash: I am perfectly healthy and exactly the same as before." Emma knew she was babbling, but she didn't care.

"I know you don't have Ebola," Killian said calmly.

"That's not the point!"

She could hear Killian sigh through the phone. "I wasn't ignoring you, I was following your lead. I thought that's how you wanted it."

"No, I was following _your_ lead!"

"Okay, well we both realize this is a misunderstanding, and we can be better from here, sound good, lass?"

Emma paused, still feeling angry, but realizing she was quickly losing traction. "Okay."

"Now I'm going to go."

"Right, get back to Annabelle." Emma spat. Killian didn't hang up. "I bet that's such a solid thing, seeing how you can't even tell her the truth." The words dripped off her tongue like poison.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Emma." It was hard to tell if Killian was talking about the week long freeze out, or if they had shifted completely to a different time and he was trying to apologize for so much more.

"Yeah, you should go. I'll see you later." Her eyes started burning.

"I won't be home this weekend," Killian reminded her gently.

"Right." Emma clicked the end button before she could say anything else ridiculous.

A few miles away, Killian clutched his phone, staring at the EMMA SWAN: CALL ENDED screen for a few seconds before shaking his head, trying to get a grip. He leaned against the brick wall, letting the hard edge dig into his back.

He closed his eyes, trying to eradicate any feelings about Emma. After the party, Ruby assured him she was the best person to deal with Emma's drunken and hungover self. "It might be better if you weren't here," she had said softly. So he left. He slept at Annabelle's place after the party, still wondering if Emma was okay. Why did she care how old Annabelle was? Or if he called her his girlfriend? Or why he didn't?

Why did they still affect each other like this?

He came home late the next night, hoping he had given Emma enough time to cool down and feel better. It had killed him this week she didn't want to talk to him, but he respected her space. He wasn't her boyfriend anymore, clearly. It wasn't his job to break down her walls and try and make her digest her feelings.

After a few minutes, Killian was interrupted by a light kiss to his neck. "Hey there," Annabelle said in her thick accent. She shrunk back to her normal height as she rolled off her tiptoes.

"Hello, dear." Killian tried to sound sincere.

"So what was going on?"

"It was just ah, Smee from the restaurant. Something with the chairs we ordered went wrong, they had to be sent back. I need to meet with the company early tomorrow." Maybe it should have been concerning how easily he could lie to her. He looked down at her earnest face, shimmering in the dull outside light.

Suddenly, the thought of going back to her place seemed awful. He didn't want her to try and seduce him, or cling onto him as she slept. He wanted to be alone, and try and sift through his thoughts. "I may have to head back to my place tonight, so I can get ready early tomorrow."

Annabelle pouted, and then snaked her arms around his torso. "But tonight was supposed to be our night." While Killian usually enjoyed her touches, right now he felt uncomfortable and constricted.

"I know, I'm sorry. Another time." He kissed the top of her head, and pulled her back inside to finish their dinner. He was distracted for the rest of the evening.

Back at the club, Emma was saved from reenacting her stupidity when Ruby reappeared, towing two men behind her.

Ruby had her arm linked with one, who had a shorter crop of brown hair and dark eyes. He looked like he did drama in high school, or something equally artsy. The other man trailed behind, clearly not as comfortable with human contact as his friend. His slightly curly hair was parted, and Emma could make out his deep blue eyes under the club's strange lighting.

"Emma! This is Jefferson," she gestured to her chosen guy. "And this is his friend, Graham! Graham is a police officer, you two have so much in common!" She gently pushed his arm toward Emma, and she stood up to shake his hand.

"So nice to meet you," he said effortlessly.

"We're going to go dance!" Ruby yelled, already leaving the pair behind and walking toward the dance floor with an eager Jefferson in tow.

"Does she always do this?" Graham asked.

"Do what?"

"Try and blatantly set you up with random guys from the bar?"

Emma laughed. "Not for a while, she believes I need to find a new guy."

"Do you?" Graham raised his eyebrow, sitting down next to Emma.

"Maybe," Emma said. The flirting was easy.

"That sounds like an opening," Graham said. Emma seized him up: he looked like he had no trouble attracting women, but for some reason it didn't bother her. He was funny, and apparently was on the same projected career path as her in the same city. Maybe Ruby was right; maybe she could easily forget her anger at Killian if she found the right person.

"Well how about this one: come dance with me." Emma stood up and put her hands on her hips in front of him.

He ticked his head to the side, "I like that one." Graham rose and laced his fingers in Emma's, letting her take the lead. She moved them through the throng of people and found an easy spot in the middle of the dance floor.

She turned toward him and started to move. After a few minutes, he placed his hands on her hips, and Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, moving them closer. She threw her head back, lost in the weird beat, and the weird circumstances and tried to forget a world existed outside of this dance floor.

By now, the rounds of drinks had fully set in, and Emma was unsure if her dancing was as impressive to those around her as it was in her own mind. Regardless, Graham didn't seem to mind; he didn't even complain when she stepped on his foot a few times.

"Emma," he said, sliding his hand up her side to cup her face. "You are beautiful."

How long had it been since someone had told her that? Instead of replying, she moved her mouth to cover his, both bodies stilling in the middle of the dance floor to focus on the more pressing matter at hand.

Graham pulled her body against his, and let his hand move from her face to tangle in her long blonde hair. She tilted her head to allow for a more intimate angle. They pulled apart when they ran out of air and leaned their foreheads against one another.

"You're quite the kisser," Graham said. She enjoyed the feeling of his hands tight on her waist, she felt wanted.

"You should see what else I can do," Emma said huskily. When her and Killian first broke up, she had quite a few one night stands. She tried to fall out of love with him by falling in bed with other men. When it didn't work, she dropped the habit and settled on being alone to gain independence. But the one drawback was that life was _lonely_. She hadn't been with anyone in quite some time and maybe one last tryst could cure her resurfacing feelings.

"That sounds like an opening," he repeated from earlier.

"Where do you live?" She asked, keeping one hand stroking his jaw line and the other she let fiddle with a side belt loop.

"Three blocks from here."

Emma grinned, "I'll get my coat."

She turned to walk away, and he grabbed her hand. "Are you sure?" His blue eyes were searching hers, and her foggy mind noted his concern and care for her.

"Only if you are." He let her hand go after placing a kiss on her knuckles. Emma staggered to find her coat and then fished her phone out of her pocket to text Ruby.

_**iMessage**_

_**Emma: Going with Graham. Call u tomorrow. **_

She only had to wait a few moments for Ruby's response.

_**Ruby: Wooo! Get it! **_

Emma rolled her eyes and Graham came up and slipped his arm around her waist. "Ready?"

"Ready," Emma affirmed. They left the club, and the bitter March air licked at Emma's legs.

However, her liquid layer made the painful gusts unnoticeable and she clung to Graham's arm, laughing at stories he told her about ridiculous things he had witness while on the job.

They finally reached the apartment building, and got into Graham's. The place was small, but nicely decorated and neat. He had some vintage covers of _Little Red Riding Hood_ framed over his dark leather sofa. "Those are cool," Emma noted, pointing at the most antiqued cover.

"Thanks, I became a bit fascinated with fairytales in college. I was an English major, and I wrote my thesis on Little Red Riding Hood. There's some wicked gore in a few of them, interesting to see how it developed."

"I bet," Emma said sincerely. The awkward we've-arrived-at-the-place-for-the-sex-what-do-we-do-now feeling set in. Emma crossed the room and put her hands on Graham's shoulders, he slipped his easily back on her hips. "Hi," Emma said, biting her lip.

"Hello there," he said. He reached down and kissed her. It was softer than the club, more gentle. However, the embrace quickly became heated as Emma opened her mouth and pressed her body completely against his. He groaned into her mouth and his hands slipped to rest on her butt.

After a few moments, he bent down and lifted her from under her thighs. She let out a laugh of surprise and wrapped her legs around him. He carried her to his bedroom, pressing her against the wall as he continued to kiss her. She slid down to rest back on her own feet and he kissed down the column on her neck.

Her fingers moved to undo the buttons on his shirt, but her drunkenness made the endeavor difficult.

He grabbed her clumsy fingers in his hands and stilled his mouth. "Emma, are you sure you want this?"

She knew she wanted to forget Killian and Annabelle; the thought made her chest contract painfully. Her hesitation made Graham drop her hands to her sides. "You are gorgeous Emma, and please don't take this the wrong way because I would absolutely love to pull you in bed with me, but you're quite drunk."

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but closed it realizing maybe he was right. She was drunk and upset and he seemed so nice; he didn't deserve this.

"How about this: you can take the bed, I'll take the couch and tomorrow I'll make you the best eggs you've ever had."

Emma laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. He pulled her close for a hug, comforting her with his tight embrace. "I'm sorry," she said. The sound was muffled against his chest.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said back, kissing the top of her head. "I got to spend the night with a great girl instead of listening to Jefferson complain."

"Let me get you a shirt," Graham said, after a moment of prolonged hugging. "And some water," he added chuckling as she tripped a bit walking over to the bed. She sank down into the plush mattress and sighed.

"You _do_ look good in my bed," he said. He handed her a long t-shirt and put a glass of water on the bedside table.

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Goodnight," he said.

She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him to her lips. "Thank you," she said, and kissed him gently.

"Of course," he said. He kissed her one more time before leaving the room.

On the other side of town, Killian lay in his bed alone, listening for any sound of the apartment door opening. It never did.

The next morning, Emma woke to the smell of eggs, and the instant headache brought the memories of the previous night flooding night. She groaned out loud.

"Morning," Graham laughed from the kitchen. She sat up on the couch, and could see him walking around the kitchen, shirtless. His hair was scruffy and she could admit he looked adorable.

Emma got up, pausing to let the head rush flood her senses. She stumbled over to the kitchen island.

"Coffee?" Graham asked, handing her a steaming mug.

"Ugh, thank you." Emma took a sip; Graham smiled and she started to feel awkward. She felt bad he went to all this trouble when she essentially made him leave a bar early to put a drunk mess in his bed and sleep on his sofa.

Emma put the cup down, and shifted off the stool. "I should go."

Graham turned around, and looked crestfallen. "You haven't tasted the eggs yet!"

"Look, this is nice but you don't have to do all this. I'm sorry that I teased you—"

"Emma!" Graham cut her off and walked closer. "I'm cooking you eggs because I want to. And you weren't teasing anyone, no offense. Anyone could see how drunk you were. I could have either left you alone and some other guy could come in and take advantage of you, or I could have let you go back to Ruby who actually, shockingly, looked like she was having a good time with Jefferson. So, I was trying to be a good friend, and a good guy."

Emma stood there, her arms crossed, quite shocked. She had read him wrong. So wrong.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I wasn't really myself last night." Emma shifted, pulling down the hem of his oversized shirt she still wore.

Graham turned his attention back to the eggs. "Well," he said, grabbing two plates and pulling some toast from the toaster. "I would love to get to know you." He put the eggs on the plate and slid one towards her. He came around and sat next to her. Emma tilted her head, trying to understand him better.

"Of course, I'm not trying to bribe you with my excellent cooking skills. You can say no, and eat and leave. Or you could say yes, and eat and well, probably leave because I doubt you want to walk around in March in that outfit." Emma snorted into her coffee. "But you could also give me your number and we could go out sometime."

"Let me mull it over, I haven't even had my eggs yet." Emma joked. Graham smiled, and they ate an excellent breakfast, and Emma left her number on a napkin for him.

He insisted on calling the cab, and also that she borrow his shirt, for which she was grateful; nothing could be helped about the gold skirt or black heels. She sighed as she drove away from Graham's apartment; it was a walk of shame without the implicated act.

She pulled up to her familiar building and went to pay. "Oh, he already paid me." Emma was taken aback, _smooth_.

She hustled inside so she could finally strip off her binding clothes. She opened the door, looking forward to the empty apartment. She winced thinking about her call to Killian last night; she would have to apologize to him. She was out of line commenting on his relationship, or lack thereof with Annabelle. Maybe she would text him after she showered.

She unstrapped her heels at the door, happy to get the blasted things off her feet.

"I made coffee." A voice said and she jumped, clutching her chest. Her eyes settled on Killian, standing in the kitchen. He was in those flannel pajamas again, his hair was ruffled, and eyes bloodshot. He looked like he barely got any sleep.

"I thought you were at Annabelle's!" Emma said, walking into their kitchen.

"Something came up," he said evenly. "She needed to go out of town." His jaw clenched, which was his tell; he was lying. Emma knew him well, and she knew lying well—he was definitely hiding something. But, maybe the two had gotten in a fight. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't her place.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Emma said, taking the coffee cup as a peace offering. Killian's eyes scaled the length of her and she colored under his gaze, remembering Graham's shirt over her own and tied neatly at her hip.

"Have a good night." It didn't sound like a question, more like a curt statement.

"I did," Emma said. "And listen, I'm sorry about last night, calling you like that. I was drunk and it won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're safe." His eyes melted, showing something deep Emma hadn't seen since that day; that day over three years ago.

Inside, Killian's mind was reeling. Here he had been, along in the apartment, tossing and turning all night, while Emma had clearly found herself male company. She walked in with some bloke's shirt on and he hated it more than he ever thought he would. But how could he say any of that? Until this weekend, he had quite excitedly and willingly and _frequently_ enjoyed his time with Annabelle.

"Thanks." Emma said, and she smiled. _Bloody fuck that smile_, Killian thought. He needed to collect himself; it must be the sleep deprivation.

"I'm going back to bed bit of a lie in, didn't sleep well last night." Killian turned, as her words from the previous night played in his head: _Yeah, I'm hurt. And it's your fault._

"Just so you know," he said. He was suddenly angry, at his stupidity, at this weird situation they were in, and at his confusing feelings. "You weren't the only one who was hurt, Emma. Back then. And it's ancient history now, it doesn't matter, but I'm pretty sure it was rougher on me. At least you saw it coming." With that said, he retreated back into his room.

Emma put her full coffee cup forcefully into the sink, accidentally chipping the corner. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and headed to the shower, hoping that would wash away the past 24 hours.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello readers! I'm so happy people are enjoying this story. I love reading your feedback! This chapter breaks my shipper heart, but it's necessary to move the plot along, just remember that Captain Swan is end game here! The angst will make it better! Also heads up, the next chapter is completely removed from the story line, we will finally see what happened with Emma and Killian in a series of flashbacks. **

Each of them had the chance to voice their feelings—Emma with her drunken phone call, and Killian with his speech when she came home the next morning. Although both of them expected the following days to be awkward, they were anything but. The pair was able to slip back into their routine and friendship easily after finally clearing the air; it was a relief.

Killian was able to loose himself in the _Wrecked_ construction and design, effectively burying whatever strange jealousy and feelings had resurfaced during that strange weekend and phone call. He apologized to Annabelle and spent the following weekend at her place, appreciating her touches he couldn't that night. And Emma never popped up in his thoughts during these intimate times…well _almost _never.

Every once and a while after him and Annabelle had retired for the night and she dozed off, his mind wandered. It wandered to that picture of Emma grinning in her green dress, or to long days spent kissing down her spine… But these were fleeting, and he did his best not to dwell on them. Reminiscing was normal… right?

Emma had gone on two dates with Graham, and everything was going well. He was just as funny and charming as he had been the first night she had met him, and equally chivalrous. Ruby and Jefferson hit it off that night and all Emma heard about for the past few weeks was how dark and brooding and wonderful he was; she also learned far more about their sex life than she ever needed to. Each phone call, Ruby would harass Emma about her physical relationship with Graham, and she _would _give her the juicy details but there was nothing to tell. At the end of each date when she thought about asking him up to her place or to go to his, but there was a nagging twist in her gut stopping her.

She tried explaining this to Ruby, who insisted "it" was Emma's lady parts shriveling up from lack of use, which somehow she didn't think was the case. Emma felt like the more obvious explanation was Killian, the polite ex boyfriend roommate living in her apartment. But he seemed happy with Annabelle, and she needed to wrap her head around that.

So, she decided tonight was the night she wasn't going to chicken out. Emma would take their new relationship to the next level. They previously had played paintball, ate dinner, as well as seen a movie together. Tonight, they were going to quite a nice restaurant.

Emma was carefully considered her appearance. She decided on red, because it reminded her of passion. She swept her curled hair to one side of her head, and put on long earrings.

She stepped out of her room to see Killian standing at the island in jeans and an undershirt mixing a cup of tea.

"Wow," he said, turning at the sound of her heels against the hard wood. He looked at her from head to toe. "You look splendid. Big evening out?"

"Ah, yes, actually," Emma answered, busying herself by applying lipstick in the small wall mirror. Killian had never been home when she left for her dates with Graham before.

"Who's the lucky bloke?" Killian took a sip of his tea.

"His name is Graham, he's a police officer."

"And what are his intentions with you, Ms. Swan?" His eyebrow arched and he looked absolutely sinful.

Emma laughed to cover the magnetism she felt toward him. "I hope anything but honorable." She wanted to stuff her first in her mouth for letting that fly out, but then decided to play it cool.

Killian choked on his tea, not expecting this answer. Emma had changed in the years since they'd broken up; she was a lot more confident in herself, much more sure of what she wanted. He gripped the handle of his mug until his knuckles whitened.

"Why have I never met this man then?"

Emma finally turned around, done fixing herself and cursing her stupid mouth. "I figured introducing him to my ex wasn't a great first date ice breaker."

Killian chuckled. "So he doesn't know either, does he?" His voice suddenly had an edge, sounding defensive as if to say, _See, isn't it easier not to tell?_

"No, he knows about you. It's just one thing to be aware and another to see it, you know?" Emma clipped her clutch shut and Killian stared moodily down at his tea, which he suddenly lost a taste for. Of course Emma told Graham when he hasn't told Annabelle; she was always the better out of the two of them—more honest, more full of light. _No wonder she left you_, the dark voice circled in his head.

The buzzer sounded, and a deep voice came over the speaker. "Emma?"

She rushed over and pushed the button. "Graham! I'll be down in one second."

"Have a good night," Killian replied dutifully, dumping his tea down the sink. Emma waived before grabbing her coat and walking out the door.

"You look incredible," Graham said before kissing Emma on the cheek.

She bowed her head to look at the sidewalk. "Thank you."

He put his calloused thumb in the center of her chin, gently prodding her to look at him. "I mean it."

She gave him a genuine smile, "I know."

"Good," he said. He called a cab, which lead them to an upscale steak house. He gave their name to the hostess and she led them directly to a table.

"This is beautiful," Emma noted.

"I've been dying to go here for ages." Graham loved food like Killian did. A twinge went through Emma's chest. Graham was a great guy and she needed to see him for the man he was, not in comparison to Killian—because nothing ever matches up to your first love.

"Glad I provided the occasion for it then," Emma said.

"As am I," Graham smiled. He called a waiter order a bottle of wine, which Emma was fine with. She honestly didn't know much about wine or the quality of any alcohol; Ruby was the bartender and before that, Killian was. Two Killians in under a minute. _Get a grip. _

* * *

><p>Back at the apartment, Killian's hands leaned against either side of the sink, staring at the cup which recently held his tea. He wondered where Graham was taking Emma tonight, what he would say about her appearance. He wondered if Graham was the owner of the white t-shirt Emma came home in that one night a few weeks ago… He hated that thought.<p>

There are times he forgets about his and Emma's past completely. Like when Annabelle surprises him with unexpected thoughtfulness or passion. There are times when he can feel the way Emma has shifted or changed him, but he's able to hold together his surface; like a lake that freezes over in the winter, but water moves below, smoothing stones and changing the land. And there are times like these, when the break up feels like yesterday and the pain is so real and suffocating he's left to wonder how he has survived these last three years.

The dinner was the most delicious thing Emma had tasted in memory. Soon after, Graham has paid their check. They hopped in a taxi (after he pulls out her chair for her and holds out her jacket for her to put on), and Graham leaned forward to tell the driver Emma's address. In that split second, Emma saw she had a choice. She could go home alone and spend another night wondering why she couldn't act on her desires, or she could trust that Graham was good and this thing they had could repair the damage to her heart she once believed to be irreparable.

"Can I come back to your place?" Emma whispered in Graham's ear, wrapping one arm around his back and letting the other rest on his thigh.

He looked over at her. "Are you sure?" Emma nodded her head quickly, mindful of the waiting driver. Graham gave his address and rested back, leaning his head on the top of Emma's.

* * *

><p>Rather than sitting alone and brooding in the apartment, Killian did his best to pull himself from the past and focus on the present. He called Annabelle, and she's thrilled to have him over on short notice.<p>

He took a cab to her apartment and smiled when he saw her in the pale green satin nightgown. She's gorgeous and adores him; he's luckier than he deserves to be.

"I've been thinking, love."

"That's never good," Annabelle teased. Killian laughed. With her, everything was light and easy, and she's not probing him about his past or his future. She was always content for the moment.

With Emma, everything was so serious, so quickly. They read each other like open books and he was committed to her in a heartbeat, because he was sure that she was carved out of the same stock that was used to create him. They were two pieces of one whole and he knew he needed her the second he met her.

It was a relief not to have that kind of cosmic pressure on him and Annabelle. "I was thinking that we should be official."

Annabelle looked surprised, and then ecstatic. She wrapped her delicate arms around Killian's neck. "I was going to ask why, but I've decided I don't care. I'd be thrilled to be your girlfriend."

Killian smiled and kissed her, clenching his jaw when the vague image of his first kiss with Emma won't leave his mind.

* * *

><p>Once they arrived, Emma and Graham walked up to his door hand in hand, resting in comfortable silence. When he turned the key in the lock, Emma realized she was holding her breath and lets it out.<p>

Graham took Emma's coat again and they were left in the now charged air. "You know, Emma, I still don't expect something. We don't have to do anything."

Emma took a deep breath. "I know," she said simply. She walked toward him and laced both hands in his. She kicked off her heels and looked up into his eyes. Emma pressed herself up to meet his mouth, it was the first real kiss they've had since the first night they met.

Graham did not take long to respond, letting his arms wrap around Emma's body to pull her closer.

Emma has had her fair share of kisses and by now, she can tell the difference between a kisser who cares and one who doesn't; Graham cares. He took his time exploring her mouth and moved his hands languidly over her body.

But then, just barely, his restraint became less careful—his raw desire started to show through. He accidentally scraped his teeth when he pressed on her collarbone and _god_, Emma thought, _this is what it's like to be wanted_. It's such a foreign feeling that has been gone for so long, wanting in such a complete way. Because yes, he wanted her sexually, but he also wanted _her_, and that was intoxicating. She didn't realize how lonely she felt until she had someone who wanted her.

Despite the small pull of doubt she feels that screams she isn't ready, Emma gave into the more tantalizing feeling of being needed. In each moan and each press of his fingers she commits herself to forgetting the paths that had already been forged on her body's terrain and focusing on the new burning, like metal that was melted down for a different purpose; she would be a different shape, a different thing, to fit this new man.

And after, he kissed his way slowly over her body, trying to worship and memorize each piece. Emma smiled because she was truly happy and Graham's happiness was contagious.

It isn't until Graham fell asleep and the room was dark that Emma's happiness was brought up short. It's the simple awareness that she didn't quite fit in Graham's arms as she did Killian's that was enough to bring all the pain back.

Because as much as she wishes she could forget, as much as she has tried, she can't. Killian is a part of her, forever. And their love is the foundation that she builds all other relationships on and she wants to shed it like a snakeskin, but she can't because humans feel pain and hurt and break.

Careful not to wake Graham, she left the room, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. She sat on his couch, by the window, needing to be alone in her skin and her thoughts. She closed her eyes and let herself remember all of it (_for the last time_, she tells herself).


End file.
